


Honour

by theoraclespecialist



Series: Wishing Well [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:37:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoraclespecialist/pseuds/theoraclespecialist
Summary: A very special day for Dele.





	

The fans had gathered by the car park and were cheering behind the fences. Dele grinned as he stepped out of the bus. Though all the other boys marched into the staircase leading to the changing rooms, Dele turned to the fans for an extensive round of pictures and autographs. Little boys were singing his chant, drawing a quiet laugh from him. For once, the flashing of the cameras, the shouting, the grasping and pulling didn’t matter to him.

A timid, black boy stepped forward and mumbled something at him. Something about the boy caught his fancy so Dele bent down to listen. “My mum says I’m like you,”

Dele placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Why so?”

The boy shrugged. Dele turned the boy around and signed his name on the white Spurs kit he was wearing. Then the boy turned around and gave Dele a kiss on the cheek. Dele ruffled his hair and stood up straight as the boy’s mother came around to fetch him. “He’s got a crush on you!” she said proudly before hauling him back to the exhilarated crowd.

The bar had already been set for the day with this exchange; Dele could only be hoping for more as he strolled into the building. It took at least thirty minutes to get through the hallway since every single individual that crossed his path stopped him over and spent a few minutes congratulating him. The changing room broke out into prolonged applause when he entered.

His favourite song played through the speakers and a couple of players immediately surrounded him. “How you feeling?” asked Isaac.

“Already a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted as he set down his backpack.  “It’s going to be a rough day,”

“Just make a few passes, some razor shots and we’ll do all the work,” suggested Andrew teasingly.

Dele shook his head. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Can’t lean on your arses,”

While the other boys jogged off to warm up on the pitch, Dele stayed back in the changing room. He ran his fingers down the locker, rifling through its contents, picking up his old kit and chuckling to himself. Then he turned to the rest of the room, the benches, the mirrors. The chair they broke amidst the celebrations of their 2018/2019 season still remained in the corner, not as a result of neglect but as a remnant of a glorious season.

 Dele smiled as the memories reanimated before his eyes and he could see his teammates over the years in this empty changing room. Sonny and Kevin taking selfies by the water fountain. Jan and Moussa dancing after their win against Real Madrid in the Champions League quarter finals. The group lifting up Harry after he won them a last-minute thriller against Liverpool. He, Eric, Sonny having an insane dab-off following a 5-4 game against Chelsea. Toby stripping off completely naked after scoring a header in the UCL final against Bayern in 2022. Isaac treating them to a hotdog party after he breaks Jamie Vardy’s record by scoring in 15 consecutive matches in the 25/26 season. Holding the Premier League trophy for the fifth time in his career a year ago.

“It’s a bit bittersweet, innit?”

Dele shook off his daze and turned to the door. Harry strode forward, “You don’t know how you’re going to live without the thrill,”

“I’ll find a way,” Dele asserted as he pulled Harry in for an embrace. “I thought you were only coming for the party,”

“It’s your last game. I’m not going to miss a second of it,” Harry said, placing his arms against Dele’s shoulders. “Calm head, remember. No tackles, no challenges, no funny business,”

“I’m a changed man, H,” Dele smirked.

“Who got sent off in Camp Nou?”

H graciously walked him through the tunnel and into the pitch. However, as Dele had predicted, he was barely given three minutes to warm up before getting summoned by club officials. Individuals from the academy, the various fan groups, the FA and other organizations met with him, bestowed him with bouquets and medals, took a round of photos and presented him with certificates. The crowd was buzzing with his name, the multitudes of chants they had developed over the years twisting across the entire stadium like a fire. Though he had gotten relatively immune to its electricity, today he couldn’t help but be lifted by its pulse.

On his way back to the changing room to get dressed for the actual game, someone intercepted him. Dele widened his eyes, his mouth dropping open. “How’re you doing, Dele?”

Dele gazed at his idol, wonderstruck. “I didn’t think you’d make it,”

Steven Gerrard laughed. “You’re going to be surprised how many have-beens are lurking in White Hart Lane at the moment,”

“That’s kinda nerve-wracking,” said Dele, peering out at the bustling crowd. “A lot of pressure to give them a show,”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not losing 6-1 to Stoke,”

Dele laughed and shook hands with him, extending into a sportsman’s hug. As Stevie shuffled away to the end of the tunnel, Dele spotted Lampard, Rooney and Beckham chatting by the wall. Dele shook his head in disbelief and plodded into the dressing room. The festivities had just begun: the dressing room was teeming with players, both past and present, music had been turned up, the walls decked out in banners and flags, trophies bracketing the entrances. Everyone clapped for him when he entered. He blushed as he made his way through the crowd of running children, loitering players and a general sense of disorder. At his locker, he found Sonny and immediately leaped into him.

“What the fuck? I thought you were in Korea!” Dele said, his emotions scratching the surface of his composure.

Sonny laughed boisterously. “You crazy? Can’t wait to see you miss a sitter today,”

Dele punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Where is Eric?”

“He should be coming in a bit,” Dele glanced at the digital hung above the door. “So how’s it going, mate? Isn’t Seojung going to be really mad at you?”

“She was, but I just brought Yui here. He’s running around here actually...” He scanned across the whirls of running children. “Yui! Yui!” He shouted in Korean and came jogging Son’s son.

Son instructed something to the child in Korean, which caused him to look up at Dele respectfully and say, “Congratulations, Uncle Dele. We are very proud of you,”

Dele laughed and leaned down to hug the boy. “You don’t have to repeat what your dad told you to say,”

Sonny chuckled and sent the kid along. “Okay, then,” He shook hands with Dele. “I’ll see you in a bit. Have a good one, mate,”

The next forty minutes were some of the most exhilarating minutes of his life. The tension, the pit in his stomach, the clench around his neck, his dry mouth, his fluttering heart, his sweaty temple, he didn’t think he’d be able to last till the kick-off. Five minutes before lining up at the tunnel, as the boys were filtering out of the changing room, Dele hesitated leaving the dressing room.

“Daddy!” Dele turned to the door and jumped to his feet. Anna and Tomas galloped across the room and flew into their father’s arms. Dele had already begun crying as he picked up his children on each arm and brought their faces closer to his.

“Why’re you crying?” asked Tomas, patting Dele’s soaked face.

“Because he won’t play football anymore,” Eric approached Dele, kissed him on the cheek and grabbed their son’s hand.

“Really?” asked Anna, frowning.

“Not every week, not on the big screens,” Eric responded, and smiled at Dele. “But you know Daddy will play with you every Sunday,”

“And every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday....” Dele sang playfully.

Anna laughed. “Stop, stop, I get it,” she moaned.

Finally, Dele calmed down enough to look towards his impending final game and began lumbering towards the tunnel, his children in his arms, his husband by his side. He could hear the crowd screaming as he got closer. _We’ve got Alli, Dele Alli..._

“Do you want me to take Tomas?” Eric offered, watching Dele struggling with weight of their children. Tomas was relatively small, so Dele was fairly comfortable on the right but Anna was a tall girl; her significant built pressed down on his posture.

“Not a chance,” Dele smiled.

Eric chuckled. “Okay, I’ll see you after the...”

“Not a chance,” he repeated. “You’re walking out with me,”

“Are you...”

“Yes. I want my entire family there with me,”

Eric smiled and joined Dele and the children as they lined up in the tunnel at the very end. Soon, the boys rolled onto the pitch and the voices got louder. I just don’t think you understand...

All eyes were on him. The flashing lights, the smiling faces, the nods, the claps, the steps, they were all for him. For the last time, feeling the magic as he steps into the pitch. The pitch that they gave him his awakening. His breakout. His 254 goals. The wins against clubs like Barcelona, Real Madrid, Bayern in one UCL season or the other. Friends that he would cherish till the end of time. A father figure he thought he was not worthy of having. His husband. His children. His family. His name. His honour. His legacy. White Hart Lane was where it all began.

“Ladies and Gentleman...please welcome on the pitch for one last time as a professional player, Dele Dier!”

 

They won 3-1 against West Brom and although Dele did not snatch a goal for himself, he did slot in a few assists. At the end, he was presented with a guard of honour before being compelled to deliver a speech of his own. He mumbled through a few words before his teammates lifted him up and threw him in the air a couple of times. His heart wouldn’t stop thundering through the whole ceremony.

Afterwards, everyone that Dele possibly cared about or had gotten acquainted to in his career of eighteen years showed up to the party held in a nearby hotel. Some chose to adorn themselves in fitted suits, some in ripped jeans and faded shirts, some drank beer, some drank cocktails. Dele popped a bottle of champagne to commence the party, after which people began floating onto the dance floor.

Dele gazed out at the people frolicking among each other, laughing, dancing, talking, drinking. Just as he was about to comment on the atmosphere of the party, Eric tapped on his shoulder and stole the words from his mouth. “Reminds you of the wedding, doesn’t it?”

Dele smiled; there wouldn’t be a day in his life that he wouldn’t smile when recalling the wonderful night of their wedding. “We didn’t have those two, though,” Dele pointed his head towards their children jumping with Chris’s boy and Coco’s twins.

“No, but the feeling was there,” Eric mentioned. “The feeling of everybody kissing your arse,”

“Of course, of course,” Dele agreed. “Can’t let a man enjoy his retirement,”

“You know I won’t,” Eric gazed at him teasingly.

Their moment was however interrupted by Tomas running towards them in tears. Eric immediately swept him in his arms. “What happened? Baby...”

Dele looked over at the circle of children in the corner and realized that Christian’s boy was also crying. He shook his head; if only he had a penny for every fight he had gotten into as a child and adolescent.

“Ele não quis dizer isso. Ele é apenas ...” Eric spoke sympathetically to Tomas, wiping down his tears with his hand. “Of course, but you can’t...”

“Ele apenas pegou. Ele e Garzia apenas começaram a rir,” Tomas was telling Eric, sinking into his Papai’s body.

Eric stroked down his son’s shaggy brown hair in consolation and leaned towards Dele. “Chris’s son stole his cards. And Garzia and...” Eric paused, trying to remember the name of the other girl.

“Mira,”

“Yes, Mira...began laughing at him,”

As they used to be professional sportsmen, the uncertainty and tension did not last long. Christian approached them with his son and urged him to apologize to Tomas, which he did, albeit quietly and embarrassedly. Tomas peeked out from Eric’s jacket and shook the boy’s hand. The boys then ran towards their circle again.

“That was quick,” Christian commented, taking a seat besides the pair.

Eric laughed. “I’m going to get a drink. Can I offer you boys anything?”

“Vodka with cranberry, please,” Christian remanded, winking at Eric.

“Just a beer, babe,” Dele said.

Eric headed off to the bar as Christian shifted a seat over to get closer to Dele. “How’re you feeling?”

Dele shrugged and smiled, a bit intoxicated. “Can’t say. A bit scared, to be honest,”

“I’d be scared too, if I was moving countries,” shared Christian. “Most of us just went back to what we knew. Our old homes. You, friend, are the one taking a huge chance,”

“Relax. You make it sound like I’m jumping out of a plane,”

“Moving to Portugal must even be more thrilling, though,” Christian smiled.

Dele nodded and turned his gaze to his children, to his husband. “Feels like the right thing to do. Eric’s been at home with the kids for five, six years now...it’s time we switch the roles,”

“Coaches have bad tempers. You sure you’re ready for that?”

“We’ll see. I’m sure I’ll have to tell him to sleep on the couch very often. But hey, it’s no premier league,”

Christian raised his eyebrow and placed his elbow on Dele’s shoulder. “My friend, you are underestimating Under-19 tournaments. That’s where boys are turned into men. Eric’s going to come back home bloody pissed and beaten,”

Dele laughed. “No different from our old seasons, then,”

“Nope. It’ll be just the same,”

And Dele knew that he wouldn’t want it any other way. His body physically jerked whenever he recalled the might of those seasons. They were something else then. The changing room was a cauldron of rage and passion, the pitch a stage of emotional and deliberation. The last minutes winners, the red cards, the penalties...Dele did not know how else life could work. 

Eric strolled back with two beers in hand. "Dele, let's go for a walk,"

Dele wrinkled his forehead. "Serious?" He gauged the crowd and wondered how the hell were they going to be able to make an inconspicuous escape. 

"I'll watch the kids. Go!" Christian urged, spurring on Dele by the shoulder. 

Dele stood up, took a beer off Eric and following his husband through the raucous crowd. They went around the stage, behind the back doors and found a dingy, darkened staircase. Eric led the climb confidently, as if he had already planned this adventure. 

"Where the fuck are you taking me, Dier?" he asked, monitoring each step so he doesn't trip. 

"Have patience, Delboy," Though he couldn't see his face, Dele knew Eric was smirking. 

Once they reached the roof, Eric halted by the door. At hearing Dele pant, he grinned derisively. "Already burning out? Not even a few hours after your retirement,"

"Oh shut up. Need I remind you of the pounds you gained after yours?"

"What's surprising about that? I'd be shocked if you're able to keep your hands off chicken wings for a bit,"

Eric pushed open the door and the cold air gashed into their skin. By habit, Dele held Eric's hand before they set to wander around the surface. The view wasn't scintillating, just a couple of buildings in the North London area but what they could appreciate was the silence, the space and the touch of each other's skin. Dele's breathing quickened and he gripped tighter his husband's hand. 

"Why'd you bring me here?" asked Dele as they settled down on a ladder by the tank. Dele leaned against Eric and placed his head on his shoulder. 

Eric took a sip from his beer. "Do I need a reason?"

Dele laughed and placed his free hand on Eric's knee. "I can't wait,"

"Really?" he asked incredulously. Just a couple of weeks ago, Dele was complaining about how empty his life was going to be, how he was going to lose his passion, his youthfulness, but now his voice signaled a changed understanding. 

"Now I can devote all my time to you and the children. I know how hard it's been for you,"

"It's not been hard, Dele," he sighed. "Okay, it's been a little hard but nothing I wouldn't do all over again. It sounds tragic but if I hadn't had that injury years ago, we might not have had Tomas and Anna. It all happens for the best,"

Dele leaned closer and kissed his husband. "I love you,"

"I love you too," Eric said, wrapping his other arm around Dele. "I'm just excited that you're going to be cooking now,"

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, the storylines actually follow my Floating into our Wishing Well series that you can find in my Works. That was the origin of my interpretation of their story, so if you want to get a feel of where these characters are coming from and what their histories, I recommend you check that out for sure!
> 
> Additionally, I'm always up for taking prompts, either in the comments or at Tumblr: sodetectivegalaxy


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